"Now, you see, he's acquainted with you, Miss Minnie," said Carolyn May.

"He's an awful nice dog. You didn't know just how nice he was before.

But I _am_ glad he didn't really bite that dirty-looking old tramp, Miss Minnie. I expect it would have made Prince sick. And I'm going to take that piece of his old coat and bury it in the garden."

Even Mr. Stagg had a good word at last to say for Prince; for he had been coming home to supper at the moment the dog chased the thievish tramp through the village.

"We have too many of that gentry here because of the railroad. I wish he'd chase 'em all out of town," declared the hardware dealer.

Besides, he profited by the incident. The very next day Miss Minnie came into his store and bought one of the very nicest dog collars he had in stock-a green leather one with bra.s.s rivet heads studding it and a shiny nameplate.

The silversmith, Mr. Murchiston, took almost a week to engrave on it:

_Prince_ _For a Brave Deed_

The next Friday noon Miss Minnie told Carolyn May she could bring Prince to school with her-of course, on his leash. By this time all the other pupils had learned that, even if he did look savage, Prince was quite as gentle and friendly as little Carolyn May herself, and they had ceased to be afraid of him.

The afternoon session closed at the usual recess time, and then it was that Miss Minnie presented the new collar to Prince, with, as Mr. Brady, the trustee, would have said, "a few appropriate words."

The big girl invented another verse in imitation of "Mary's Little Lamb," and recited it:

"'_What makes Prince love Car'lyn so?'

The little children cry.

'Why, Car'lyn loves the dog, you know,'

The teacher doth reply._"

"Oh, dear me!" sighed Carolyn May happily. "It's just like a party-a birthday party. We never celebrated Prince's birthday before, or gave him any kind of party. But I _know_ he enjoys it."

He certainly did seem to appreciate the honour, and bore himself proudly with the new green collar around his neck. Uncle Joe attached his S.P.C.A. license tag to it, which jingled like a bangle.

Carolyn May was glad to see Uncle Joe do this. Everything that Uncle Joe did which showed he thought of something besides his business pleased his little niece.

"You see," she told Aunty Rose, "I know Uncle Joe doesn't _look up_ enough. Whenever I'm in his store I almost always see him at his desk working at that great big book in which he keeps his accounts.

"Chet Gormley says he always is at it-Sundays, too. You know, Aunty Rose, he walks down to the store every Sunday after dinner and stays till supper time."

"I know it, child," the housekeeper agreed. "Joseph Stagg is completely wrapped up in his business."

"Yes. My papa had to work hard, and awful long hours, too. But when he was away from the newspaper office he said he always left business behind him. He looked up at the sky and listened to the birds sing.

Leastways," said Carolyn May honestly, "he listened to the sparrows quarrel. There weren't many other birds on our block, 'cept a parrot; and he scolded awfully."

At any rate, she was quite sure that Uncle Joe ought to be interested in something besides his hardware store. She thought about this a good deal. And, finally, she laid an innocent little trap for him.

Of one tenet of the Friends' belief Aunty Rose was thoroughly convinced: no cooking went on in the Stagg kitchen after breakfast on the Sabbath.

Of course, they had dinner, but save for hot tea or coffee or soup the viands at that meal and at supper were cold.

Sometimes during the warm weather there were heaps of Aunty Rose's flaky-crusted apple turnovers, baked the day before, to crumble into bowls of creamy milk, or there were piles of lovely sandwiches and eggs with mayonnaise, and suchlike delicacies.

Aunty Rose, however, removed her work ap.r.o.n when the breakfast dishes were washed and put away and the kitchen "ridded up," and for the remainder of Sunday she did only the very necessary things about the house.

If she did not walk to town to attend the Friends' Meeting House, she sat in a straight-backed chair and read books that-to Carolyn May-looked "awfully religious." However, she did not make the day of rest a nightmare to the child. The little girl had her picture books, as well as her Sunday-school papers, and she could stroll about or play quietly with Prince.

The Corners was not burdened with the arrival of Sunday papers from the city, with their blotchy-looking supplements and unsightly so-called "funny sheets." Almost everybody went to church, and all the children to Sunday-school, which was held first.

The Reverend Afton Driggs, though serious-minded, was a loving man. He was fond of children, and he and his childless wife gave much of their attention to the Sunday-school. Mrs. Driggs taught Carolyn May's cla.s.s of little girls. Mrs. Driggs did her very best, too, to get the children to stay to the preaching service, but Carolyn May had to confess that the pastor's discourses were usually hard to understand.

"And he is always reading about the 'Begats,'" she complained gently to Uncle Joe as they went home together on this particular Sunday-the one following the presentation of Prince's new collar-"and I _can't_ keep interested when he does that. I s'pose the 'Begats' were very nice people, but I'm sure they weren't related to us-they've all got such funny names."

"Hum!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Uncle Joe, smothering a desire to laugh. "Flow gently, sweet Afton, does select his pa.s.sages of Scripture mostly from the 'valleys of dry bones,' I allow. You've got it about right there, Carolyn May."

"Uncle Joe," said the little girl, taking her courage in both hands, "will you do something for me?" Then, as he stared down at her from under his bushy brows, she added: "I don't mean that you aren't _always_ doing something for me-letting me sleep here at your house, and eat with you, and all _that_. But something special."

"What is the 'something special'?" asked Mr. Stagg cautiously.

"Something I want you to do to-day. You always go off to your store after dinner, and when you come home it's too dark."

"Too dark for what?"

"For us to take a walk," said the little girl very earnestly. "Oh, Uncle Joe, you don't know how _dreadful_ I miss taking Sunday walks with my papa! Of course, we took 'em in the morning, for he had to go to work on the paper in the afternoon, but we did just about go _every_where.

"Sometimes," pursued Carolyn May in reminiscence, "we went to a very, very early morning service in a church. It was held pertic'lar for folks that worked at night. It wasn't like our church where I went to Sunday-school, for there were boys in long dresses, and they swung little dishes on chains, with something burning in 'em that smelled nice, and the minister did all the talking--"

"Humph!" snorted Mr. Stagg, who was just as startled as was the Reverend Mr. Driggs by any new idea.

"And then we walked," sighed Carolyn May. "Of course, we had often to take a ride first before we could get a place to walk in-not on pavement. On real dirt and gra.s.s! Under the trees! Where the birds sang!

And the flowers lived! Oh, Uncle Joe! do you know how pretty the woods are now? The trees and bushes are all such lovely colours. I don't dare go very far alone-not even with Prince. I might get lost, Aunty Rose says.

"But if you would go with me," the little girl added wistfully, "just this afternoon, seems to me I wouldn't feel so-so _empty_."

That "empty" feeling from which the little girl suffered when she thought of her parents and her old life she did not often speak of. Mr.

Stagg looked down at her earnest face and saw that the blue eyes were misty. But Carolyn May was brave.

"Humph!" said Uncle Joe, clearing his throat. "If it's going to do you any particular good, Car'lyn May, I suppose I can take a walk with you.

I expect the chestnuts are ripe."

"Oh, they _are_, Uncle Joe! And I've wanted to get just a few. But whenever Princey and I go to any of the trees near by, there are always squirrels-and they do quarrel so! I s'pose that's all they'll have to eat this winter, and maybe the winter is going to be a hard one. That's what Tim, the hackman, says. I don't want to rob the poor little squirrels. But couldn't we give 'em something instead to eat, and so take a few of their nuts?"

"The squirrels always were piggish," chuckled Uncle Joe. "I don't believe they are ent.i.tled to more'n a bushel apiece. Anyway, we'll take a basket with us."

This they did. Although Aunty Rose was very strict with herself on Sunday, she did not disapprove of this walk. And certainly Prince did not.

Once off his chain and realising that they were bound for the woods, he acted like a mad dog for the first few minutes. As they crossed the already browning fields he dashed back and forth, now far ahead, now charging back at them as though determined to run them down. Then he rolled on the gra.s.s, crept on his stomach, tearing up the sod with his strong claws, and barking with delight.

"That fool pup hasn't got the sense he was born with," declared Uncle Joe, but without rancour.

"He's just happy," explained Carolyn May. "You see, he's happy for himself and happy for us, too. So he just has to show off this way. It isn't really that he hasn't good sense, Uncle Joe."

It was a crisp day-one of those autumn days when the tang of frost remains in the air, in spite of all the efforts of the sun to warm it.

The sumac had blushed redly all along the hedgerows. The young oak leaves were brown and curled. Under foot, the dead leaves rustled and whispered. The bare-limbed beeches looked naked, indeed, among the other trees. Even the yellowing leaves of the chestnuts themselves were rattling down without a breath of wind stirring.